Collections Happen

"One cannot collect all the beautiful shells on the beach. One can collect only a few, and they are more beautiful if they are few." Anne Morrow Lindbergh 

While my knowledge of Anne Morrow Lindbergh is mainly from her wonderful book, Gifts from the Sea, this quote suggests she's a minimalist. A wonderful "less is more" approach to life, but not the image of a true collector. I see many seashell collectors since I live at the beach. And none of them limit themselves to "collecting only a few." Their shell theme goes much further. Their houses are filled with pictures, dishes, towels, shower curtains, and furniture covers, inside and out, with a shell motif.

Collections happen. I came to this conclusion after some time of study. My education began innocently enough at our local library where a rectangular case with the sole purpose of displaying collections resides in the lobby. The collections are often unusual. Consider a sea of Smurfs. Remember those funny looking little blue…men, boys, elves, martians? Marionettes and Pez containers were two more exotic displays.

Why do we feel compelled to collect? And why do we choose the things we do? Or do our collectables choose us? Some anthropologists suggest our need to collect may be connected to an earlier point on our evolutionary journey. Susan Pearce, author of Interpreting Objects and Collections, says one in three North Americans collect something. Where are you on the spectrum? Before you say you're not the one in three, check your drawers and closets. Do you accumulate photos, ticket stubs, CDs?

After conducting further nonscientific research, I realized collectors are not born on the same motivational paths.

Consider the following groups:

The Indiana Jones: For this collector, it's all about the quest. Fellow blogger, Sandy, collects fine musical instruments and confesses, "For me, it's all about the conquest. I enjoy the ones I have, but my mind is already moving onto what I want next." On her search list: an antique banjo.

The Accidental Tourist: This is my category. I don't know how my collection of small bunnies began, but like real life rabbits they've multiplied rapidly. My two favorites sit on each side of my computer and I consider them my Muses since they always smile encouragement when I sit down and sweat in front of a blank screen.


The Reluctant Joiner: This is a person who never wanted to be an accumulator. Someone told me about a woman she met who had a bird house collection. "You must really love birds," my friend said to her. The woman looked at her. "Birds? Why would you think that?" It all began one Christmas when three people gave her the same gift. You guessed it — bird houses. Before she could return them, her birthday arrived, along with — right again — more bird houses.

The Sensualist: Stu, a member of my writers' group, collects fine porcelain Madonna figures. I saw his collection when it graced our library case. Stu is a discriminating connoisseur. He only adds to his collection when he sees an exceptional piece. His joy is in the loveliness of the art.

The Banker: My significant other, Will, began collecting commemorative quarters in 1999. He's sure they'll be worth more than a quarter each once the Treasury completes the series. The way the economy is going, I think he'll be lucky to break even. Still, it's nice to have something financial to think you can fall back on…

The Torch Carrier: The last display in the library case was a multitude of egg cups. One was labeled "Ginger." Aha, someone else to question. Ginger happens to be the library person with the challenge of setting up displays. "I began collecting egg cups because my mother collected them," she explained. So she just fell into her collection, so to speak. It's nice to know her mother's passion will live on. I wonder if one of Ginger's children will continue the tradition.

The Identity Seeker: The minute she saw the red satin pig with rhinestone eyes in Neiman Marcus, Nancy had to have it since it was time to do something nice for herself. Her Independence Pig became the first of many. Years later, when she was in a different emotional place, she was ready to move on. The defining moment, she says, was when a friend said, "Every time I see a pig, I think of you." Definitely time to find her menagerie another home.

The Memory Seekers: There's a little bit of this in all of us. Photos, ticket stubs, concert programs, but especially pictures evoke memories of our lives. My screensaver consists of a rolling picture show. California trips intermixed with Florida winters, cruises, family members at various ages, and even images I've used in blog postings. Walter Benjamin, a German writer and essayist, said it best: "Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector's passion borders on the chaos of memories."

The Knowledge seeker: I read once that everyone should be an expert on something. Do you have enough knowledge to speak to a particular topic? The Gettysburg battle? The life cycle of Barbie dolls? This is my wannabe collector status. All I have to do is find out what the one thing is that I'm more interested in than anything else… But maybe that's a blog for another day.

Seriously, if you haven't started collecting, think about doing so. It helps people know what to buy you for your birthday, gives you a reason to go to flea markets and yard sales, and hides the dust on your window sills. Join the ranks of the many!

Saturday Morning Reflections

There is not such a cradle of democracy upon the earth as the Free Public Library, this republic of letters, where neither rank, office, nor wealth receives the slightest consideration.  ~Andrew Carnegie

 During my busy working years, we only had the Sunday paper delivered. Saturday was the catch up day – laundry, cleaning the house, and shopping. Now, I savor Saturday mornings. We've added Saturday delivery and Will delivers the paper to me in bed, along with a cup of coffee and a kiss. He heads downstairs to read the sports section. Both of us enjoy our routine and solitude in starting the weekend.

I read slowly and usually, it's a peaceful time. No super news – a bit of a rehash of what's been on the TV news all week, plus more local news and views. Even the reports on the declining economy and the war seem a little more distant when viewed only in print, still upsetting but somehow, less so with a only through the eyes look, without the sound effects of the screen.

This Saturday, however, on the New Jersey page in the Atlantic City Press, this headline blared without any need for TV backup.

Camden library, running out of funds, prepares to close.

             Carnegie Library, Camden, circa 1914

Being a frequent library patron, I began to read, initially thinking this must be a closing of one branch, still tragic, but perhaps it's a branch seldom used. Sadly, that isn't the case. Instead, Camden, one of our nation's poorest cities, is going to close all its libraries by the end of the year because funding has been slashed so deeply it cannot afford to keep operating.

This requires more attention than my usual Saturday morning inertia. So, I go to the computer to learn more. What I found made the headline and article hit even harder.

• I learned that less than one third of Camden residents have high-speed Internet. Adults use the libraries to go online and look for jobs.
• Children depend on the library to access schoolwork research, attend book reading, and learn to play chess, a unique part of that sytstem's offerings.
• The homeless seek its respite during extreme weather and it can provide a refuge for those who don't have air conditioning during extreme heat conditions
• By closing all branches, the more than 150,000 annual visits to a library will no longer be possible. 

Ironically, Andrew Carnegie, a great proponent of the value of libraries (see quote above), donated $100,000 for the first library to be built in Camden. Now the New Jersey Library Association suggests that amount might be enough to save the library a century later. But where will that money come from? Who will step forward to help?
To read more about other libraries in trouble, go to the NJLA or to the New Jersey Save My Library website

A few quotes on the value of libraries:

What is more important in a library than anything else - than everything else - is the fact that it exists.  ~Archibald MacLeish, "The Premise of Meaning," American Scholar, 5 June 1972

Libraries:  The medicine chest of the soul.  ~Library at Thebes, inscription over the door

Perhaps no place in any community is so totally democratic as the town library.  The only entrance requirement is interest.  ~Lady Bird Johnson

We may sit in our library and yet be in all quarters of the earth.  ~John Lubbock

A great library contains the diary of the human race.  ~George Mercer Dawson

I love the place; the magnificent books; I require books as I require air.  ~Sholem Asch

The richest person in the world - in fact all the riches in the world - couldn't provide you with anything like the endless, incredible loot available at your local library.  ~Malcolm Forbes

...the world is before me - a library open to all - from which poverty of purse cannot exclude me - in which the meanest and most paltry volume is sure to furnish something to amuse, if not to instruct and improve.  ~Joseph Howe, 1824

A library, to modify the famous metaphor of Socrates, should be the delivery room for the birth of ideas - a place where history comes to life.  ~Norman Cousins

Nutrimentum spiritus (food for the soul).  ~Berlin Royal Library, inscription

And a final thought...

I think the health of our civilization, the depth of our awareness about the underpinnings of our culture and our concern for the future can all be tested by how well we support our libraries.  ~Carl Sagan, Cosmos

Five Reasons Why Writers Should Belong to Book Groups

"Reading is the whetstone on which a writer hones his sword."

(Writer's Little Book of Wisdom by John Long)

On my way home this past week from our monthly book group meeting, I thought of how many different views of a story entered into our discussion. This month, we read The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery. For me, a wonderful read! For some others in the group, not so great! But, then, the beauty of the group is sharing differing opinions and feeling comfortable enough to express them.

My particular group is not composed of writers. In fact, I think I'm the only writer who attends. Each member brings a unique perspective to our discussion. If you are a writer, joining a book group is a great way to build skills.

By being part of a book group, you can learn more about:

1. Character and Motivation:
We ask each other what motivated this character. And was this character believable? Why did the author choose that particular motivation and was it strong enough to carry the reader through?

2.  Analytical skills:
Sharing your views about what you've read enhances your skill to step back and view the book as a topic of discussion. Attaining that distance helps much more than the solitary pursuit of studying other authors.

     3.  Plot and structure:
No author can get a poor plot past a book group's collective eyes! We ask: was there enough action, enough conflict? Did the ending work for us? We question what theme the author intended us to take away from the story.

     4.  Voice and point of view:
The Help by Kathryn Stockton was a classic example of how to use voice and point of view to tell a spell-binding story. She did a masterful job of using dialect, as well, to bring her characters to life.
   
     5.  Marketability:
For aspiring writers, there's nothing better than learning what other readers like. Part of our discussion always involves how easy or difficult it was to get caught up in the book and why. Most of us are pretty committed to finishing the book so we can contribute at our meetings, so it's really telling when the consensus is that something didn't work to draw us in.
    
So, consider joining a book group to help hone your skills. I recommend looking for one that reads all types of genres.

Here is a list of some of my favorites from our group:

          To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
          The House of Sand and Fog by Andre Dubus
          The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd
          The Life of Pi by Yann Martell
         The Color of Water by James McBride
         The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night by Mark Haddon
         Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
         Master Butcher's Singer's Singing Club by Louise Erdrich
        Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
                                              A Thousand White Women by Jim Fergus

In Search of Shampoo

"How can I control my life when I can't control my hair?" Author Unknown

It all began innocently enough last January. We were getting ready to head south for the winter and one of my last tasks was my usual haircut. I'm not sure why, but I asked the hairdresser, "Do you think I should consider changing my hairstyle?" Maybe it was the cumulative effect of seeing myself in that hairdresser dull drape with the same short hair style for nearly fifty years. Is it time for a change?

"A bob," my hairdresser said, "it's a cut for all ages. You'd look good in that style." She said it would take about seven months to complete the transition. Being away seemed the perfect time to start. The first couple months were uneventful, with an occasional shaping to keep it in some semblance of order.

As my style change advanced, I began to realize a woman's relationship with her hair can be a complicated thing, and I begin to question whether how one chooses to wear it says something about where she is along her life journey. My daughter, Christina, believes a woman who never changes her hair is leaving it in the era where she was most happy.

Hmm. That's interesting. I first cut my hair short when I started nursing school (see picture). I know I'm much less serious these days than I was then, much more content with life, but let's face it, age 19 is a pretty exciting, carefree time in our lives. Or is that I'm merely older and less passionate about life now? I hope not.

In 1985, Hubert de Givenchy wrote in Vogue magazine, "Hairstyle is the final tip-off whether or not a woman really knows herself."(for more hair quotes, go to http://www.quotegarden.com/hair.html)  Sorry, Hubert, but I don't want to believe that. And yet...

And so, I began my pilgrimage of growth. Hair, that is. In the past, I paid little attention to my coiffure. Once I combed it in the morning, I figured it was on its own. Suddenly, I now find myself checking every mirror to make sure the ends are smooth, not sticking out in all directions. When I wake up in the morning and sit up in bed, I can see myself in the large mirror directly opposite my bed. My hair is definitely beginning to look just like that of the caricature on the vase my granddaughter, Julia, gave me about five years ago. Does she have some sort of forecasting power, I wonder?

                   
I'm noticing the color, too. Again, something that never concerned me before. It's white, has been since I was in my 30's so I've never seen white hair as part of my own aging, but now, I notice some yellow tinges creeping in. Not blonde, much more like slightly used dish water. Most likely it's due to the annual flushing of our water lines here on our island, but somehow, that never bothered me as it does now. This hair thing is getting more and more complicated.

So I trek over the bridge to the mainland in search of shampoo, the kind for silver hair. I've seen it before, even bought it once or twice on sale. Funny how they never call it shampoo for gray or white hair. Another sign of ageism in advertising. That discovery is reinforced when I notice even the lady getting into the tub with the side door on the TVadvertisement is younger than the real women who need this assistive device, as are those lucky ladies on the Viagra commercials.

See how this whole hair thing is mushrooming. Ah, if only my hair would grow as fast. I am beginning to ask myself: why a change now?  Is it to prove some sort of flexibility point or only my exceptional stubbornness in not knowing when to fold this whole hair quest?

Back to my search for shampoo. CVS has lots of shampoo, as does Walmart. None for white, excuse me, silver hair. Target wins the variety award, hands down. More than one long aisle is full of shampoo – for coarse, curly, fine, oily, limp, dull, dry, damaged, stressed, or straight hair. Flavors, too. Lemon scented, strawberry, watermelon. It's possible, I think, to end up smelling like a fruit salad just by shampooing your hair. Such variety, but no shampoo for silver hair, none to get the yellow out, though, lots for blonde hair that needs a lift.

As I drive home from my fruitless shampoo search, I wonder whether my quest is really for shampoo or a new style. The journey, for sure, has led me to a greater awareness of how women perceive themselves and how self image and worth are affected by our image driven media.

I think about all the brave women who have shaved their heads in defiance of the impending loss of hair as a result of chemotherapy for breast cancer. I think of my granddaughter, Grace, who at age 13, grew her hair long enough to donate it to Locks for Love ( http://www.locksoflove.org/).  And the absolutely beautiful young woman with alopecia who is running for Miss Delaware. She definitely has a strong sense of self.

Their courage in the face of  adversity inspires me, and I think, perhaps my search for shampoo isn't really that at all, but a seeking for something much more than a simple bob.

For more information on how to donate hair for women and children with illness, go to: http://www.pantene.com/en-us/beautiful-lengths-cause/default.aspx.  or http://hair.lovetoknow.com/Donating_Hair_for_Cancer_Victims

The Elusive Nature of Satisfaction

 Most mornings, unless it's raining, I hop on my bike and ride to the south end of our island. It's a good way to start the day and get my daily exercise. Today, I hesitated. We're in the midst of one of those beastly heat waves unrelieved even by the usual ocean breeze. No, I decide, better to go since the day will only get hotter.

I grind out the miles on the way down and when I turn to ride back, the wind picks up, its full force in my face. For a moment I welcome the blessed hint of coolness it brings, then, dissatisfaction begins to set in. I have to work harder now to peddle the remaining two miles.

A bit of remorse hits me. How hard it is for me, and others, too, I think, to ever be fully satisfied! And if we manage those moments of complete peace with who and where we are, how hard it is to hold onto that satisfaction.

As I ponder my ungratefulness, Mick Jagger's "I Can't Get No Satisfaction" plays in my head. I've always loved that song , but never really incorporated it into my psyche before as a social statement. Mostly, I connected it with dancing and sex (or the lack thereof!). Now the song lyrics buzz in my head to tease, to torment, and to remind me of the elusive nature of satisfaction .

From there, my mind drifts to Goldilocks and The Three Bears. Am I destined to constantly find my life too hard or too soft, and never just right? How about you? Do you, too, find yourself often stuck in the land of "no satisfaction?'

While I push my bike into the garage, I recall buying it several weeks ago. It's a hot pink $99 Schwinn from Walmart's. What a bargain! Of course, at the time, I groused about the fact that Schwinn bikes are now made in China, but then, isn't almost everything else?

The fact this was my first brand new bike hits me. What strikes me even more is the realization I never hungered for a new one, or put it on my Santa list as a child. Only one "rich" boy In our neighborhood had a shiny, new bike and he was considered an "outsider." How could I envy him since he and his family seldom attended neighborhood parties? Maybe I should have felt sorry for him, but that never occurred to me, either. Partly due to "kid" callousness, and partly because his parents "imported" playmates from some other place.

Now, for a moment, I'm truly satisfied as I realize my childhood was such that I didn't need a new bike to be happy or to belong. If we could recapture the wonder of our early years, perhaps, we could take an unreserved joy in that sudden, swift, cooling wind in our face. And ask why was Goldilocks so worried about too hot or too cold porridge. After all, wouldn't it cool or couldn't she warm it up? Who would ever eat porridge anyway?

(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction, http://www.keno.org/stones_lyrics/satisfaction.html.

A Place to Nourish Your Soul

"You mix it with your love and emotion to create magic. Through cooking, you raise your spiritual level and balance yourself in a world that is materialistic." Laura Esqiuvel, Like Water for Chocolate

Everyone has a favorite room in their house. Mine is the kitchen, though, it wasn't always so. Several lifetimes ago, as I approached my wedding day, my then-future husband began suggesting that perhaps I should be spending time with my mother learning how to cook. I brushed off his increasing insistence, saying, "If I can read, I can cook."

After we'd been married for a few months, he confessed his parents had been teasing him, telling him he would starve once we were married since I didn't know how to cook. "Just a pretty face," my future father-in-law had said, "That isn't going to keep you from getting hungry."

I must admit for the first few months of our marriage we did exist mostly on love. My meals were definitely substandard, but dear Will quickly learned not to tell me so. Ah, discretion, another secret of a long, happy marriage. But that's a subject for another time…

Gradually, my skills improved until even my in-laws, especially my father-in-law, looked forward to coming to Sunday dinners at our house. Still, it wasn't until I returned to work that I truly realized my kitchen as a refuge and my spiritual place. I'd come home frazzled by all the work politics and problems, too tired to cook, I'd think, until I started to prepare the food.      

I began to notice that by the time dinner was ready to put on the table, a smoothing of my frayed nerves had occurred. The simple task of making a salad, peeling potatoes, or stirring the spaghetti sauce became the respite I needed to reflect on the day and my life.

A few years ago, I bought a small book entitled The Mindful Cook by Isaac Cronin. Cronin says "you can nourish your soul, develop your mind, and eat well at the same time!" That sentence, as well as, the rest of this neat tome gave me a new perspective on the everyday task of time in the kitchen.

The idea of combining those three elements into necessary tasks intrigued me. And the author gave what I already knew a voice and a mindfulness I didn't realize was possible - that by intentionally putting myself in a spiritual frame of mind, my kitchen would be even more the place where I could always retreat and find harmony.

Here's some tips on how you, too, can bring mindfulness to your cooking:

1. Make the kitchen uniquely yours by adding a color you especially like. My favorite is teal and the backsplash is the area I see most.
2. Put favorite pictures or paintings where you can view them while you're preparing food. I've placed pictures of my two sets of grandchildren, over my stove so I can send them my love, thoughts, and prayers. Somehow, I know those thoughts do fly across the miles to kiss them even though my positive regard may not be consciously received.
3. Be fully present by centering on one task at a time. Multitasking may be in vogue, but it's definitely overrated and more stressful!
4. Mentally quiet yourself so you can really see the color of deep red summer tomatoes, smell the pungent aroma of rosemary, and feel the texture of  papery parchment covered onions.
5. Be good to yourself even if it's a meal for one. In the early Julia Child TV shows (I'm talking black and white here, at least at my house), once the meal was ready, she sat down alone, wine glass in hand, to eat and savor what she'd prepared. 

So, whether you're toasting a bagel, making sticky buns (one of my favorites), or roasting a turkey, eating alone or with others, you can bring spiritual nourishment to the kitchen and table. Somehow, the food tastes even better when mixed with joy and mindfulness.

Bon Appetit!

A Writers’ Conference for All the Write Reasons

"I'm going to write because I cannot help it." Charlotte Bronte  

At the Philadelphia Writer's Conference this past weekend (June 11 – 13), Loretta Barrett, of Loretta Barrett Books, used almost the same words in describing writers she represents. She and Charlotte are right. Writing is what we do because we must. We love it and yet, sometimes resent it when we think of all the other things we could be doing like going to the beach, shopping, or just hanging out. Sometimes, we ask ourselves why we choose to do something that can be so frustrating, but then, we have one of those moments when the words come easy or when we're able to pull exactly what we need from our gut. Those moments are rare for me, so I often have to slog through. Still, I can't not write.

Going to a writers' conference is a wonderful way to refresh, renew, and share your passion for your craft. It's especially nice to talk to other writers and get some of their advice. For example, the first morning I was sitting in the hotel lobby, a woman sat down near me and asked, "Are you working on your pitch?"
"Yes," I said.
She smiled, and said, "Want to try it out on me? I've done this before – successfully."
Her advice included the following:

1. Describe your story in one sentence that includes the character, her goal, and the conflict that prevents her achieving that goal.
2. Tell what makes it different from other books.
3. Take a note card with a few key points.
4. Show enthusiasm and belief in your book.

One of my main goals in attending was to try to sell my novel, Bellehaven. Armed with the advice of my lobby angel, I was ready, though nervous, to speak to an agent. The process at a conference is a lot like speed dating (although I've never experienced that first hand!). It offers an all too brief opportunity to make a favorable impression and hopefully hear an agent say the magic words, "Send me 60 pages and your synopsis. I'd like to take a look at it."
This year, success! I was able to pitch my book well enough to have an agent and a publisher ask to see a portion of my novel. Now all I have to do is write a letter, review and refine my first 60 pages, polish my synopsis, and get it all in the mail. It's a wonderful, but scary prospect.

The greatest thing about a writers' conference, besides the energy the gathering garners and the knowledgeable workshop presenters (all successful writers), is the pleasure of talking to fellow writers. Take business cards and use the time between workshops to meet as many writers as you can. You'll find lots of people have knowledge they can share, whether it be about the art of writing or the business side.

Participate in everything offered. Register early enough to send manuscripts for professional critiquing by workshop leaders, as well as, entries for the contests in your category. Consider trying another genre, too, like writing a poem or an essay if you normally write fiction. Check out the Wall contests if the conference offers them. These are all one page submissions that you pin to the wall. Flash fiction, nonfiction, and poetry are the three categories. If you're like me, you'll be tired and ready to rest just about the time of night when the rap sessions begin. Fortunately for me, I had a friend who insisted that I "go for just a little while." Once there, the process energized me enough to stay for the whole session.

The keynote speaker, Larry Kane, Philadelphia TV anchor, opened the conference by telling us his writing journey, one that included traveling with the Beatles on their first American tour. At the time, he was 21 and reluctant to go. He thought it was more important to stay at home to report on the Cuban crisis than to go "off with a band no one would remember three months later." His editor's insistence that he go on the tour changed the trajectory of his career. What direction would his life had taken if he had skipped that experience? Sitting there listening, I thought how his story sounded more like fiction than real life. I guess John Lennon said it best in one of his songs: "Life is just what happens when you're busy making other plans."

What Larry Kane experienced was unusual. Most of us don't have something that amazing come along to help propel us toward success. We have to make our own breaks. Going to a writers' conference can be a tool to help us.

Lyric from Beautiful Boy by John Lennon. Available at: http://www.beatles.ws/songa-e.htm.